


Don't Be Ridiculous

by All_Wrong



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15773730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Wrong/pseuds/All_Wrong
Summary: “I love you.”“Don’t be ridiculous, Andréa.”





	1. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer is done.  
> I have a WIP to finish, and I need to restart my DWP generator to do that.  
> But it didn't start right and instead this came out.
> 
> So, here you go.
> 
> Not beta'd, I'm living on painkillers and my mind is a bit fuzzy.  
> Those are my excuses if it's all wrong. And odd.
> 
> Basically canon, if you choose to misremember what was actually said in the car.

 

_“I love you.”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Andréa.”_

 

Miranda remembers the last bit of hope leaving Andréa’s all too expressive eyes in that instant.

Yes, surely it was utterly ridiculous. The whole notion of her assistant, who is also twenty years younger than Miranda being in love with her, absolutely preposterous.

Hero-worship, a lost bet. Something along those lines, certainly.

Miranda rolls her eyes at the memory from four years ago but struggles to find it as ridiculous anymore. Not when her eyes focus again on the tiny announcement ruining her Sunday morning and something inside her twists sharply.

If only.

Who even announces their engagement in a newspaper these days? Miranda finds herself pursing her lips at the paper once again.

Apparently, Andréa Sachs and _Henry Ingesson_ do.

Infuriating. Another thing the doe-eyed girl has ruined for her. First Paris and now Sundays. And newspapers.

And just to be safe; all the Nordic countries. At least his last name sounds Nordic to Miranda.

Andréa does look happy, Miranda thinks as she touches the tiny picture accompanying the announcement.

She is smiling next to a way too boring looking man who looks at Andréa with tenderness that makes Miranda throw the newspaper to the other side of the kitchen island.

It falls off the table as a rather sleepy looking Caroline walks into the kitchen. She looks at the newspaper on the floor and then looks at her mother curiously.

Miranda offers the girl a small smile and stands up, “Did you sleep well?” Caroline is now next to her and Miranda kisses her forehead. “Breakfast?”

Caroline nods and climbs on the chair Miranda had vacated.

“Is Cassidy still sleeping?”

“Am not,” Cassidy says as she joins them in the kitchen.

Miranda continues preparing breakfast when there is a surprised “Whoa!” coming behind her. Before she has turned around, Cassidy continues, “Look, Caro! Andy’s getting married!”

Miranda winces, but hopes the twins don’t pick up on it. “Who, dear?”

Both Caroline and Cassidy lift their eyes and stare at her.

“ _Ahn-drey-ah_ ,” they say in unison and Miranda would laugh at their tone if the whole idea of Andréa marrying someone wasn’t still making her stomach turn.

Miranda turns away from the twins, “I wasn’t aware you remember my former assistants.”

Caroline snorts, “That would be impossible. Like just how many have you even had since Andy? But Andy we remember.”

Miranda chooses to ignore the last part of what Caroline said and doesn’t ask why.

Instead she says with mock disappointment “I had no idea my children were so cheeky.” And places plates in front of the two.

The twins giggle, before attacking their breakfasts.

On the island, between her children is the offending newspaper, which she grabs and subsequently proceeds to throw away.

Out of sight, out of mind and all that, Miranda decides firmly. Her firmness all but disappears and she leans against the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Caroline and Cassidy give each other a look.

“Mom?” Caroline says softly.

Miranda opens her eyes, only to see that both of her girls are studying her expressions carefully. “Yes, Bobbsey?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course. Of course, I’m alright,” she says and straightens herself.

“Mom.” Cassidy’s tone is far more challenging than her sister's.

Miranda walks behind the twins and kisses the top of Cassidy’s head. “I’m just a sentimental old fool,” she laughs.

Caroline turns around in her chair to face Miranda, “You’re not old and definitely not a fool.”

“Yeah, Mom. Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassidy adds.

Miranda sighs and says mostly to herself, “But I wish I had been.”


	2. Jealousy

 

“Andréa would have never,” Miranda starts, but doesn’t finish the sentence when she is met with an odd look on her second assistant's face. She waves her hands and dismisses the girl, “That’s all.”

The girl doesn’t even know who Andréa is. Not that she needs to.

It has been four years and she has not been mentioned by Miranda, or most people at Runway.

And it isn’t like she wants Andréa back to be her assistant. Or at all. Just that ever since Sunday it has been increasingly harder to shake off the image of her, despite Miranda’s efforts.

Then again it really should not be a surprise.

_Andréa has always been stubborn._

Miranda sighs almost fondly and sits down. Nigel clears his throat, clearly, she has forgot he is even in the room.

“Yes?” She asks as she takes off her glasses and drops them on the table.

“There is a name I haven’t heard in ages,” he says and sits down opposite Miranda.

She rubs the bridge of her nose, and says, “And you could choose to pretend you didn’t hear it now either.”

“Perhaps. But you look like there is a story behind it." When Miranda meets his eyes, she thinks she can pick on some concern in her art director’s eyes.

“Not really, no, but,” she says, and leans back in her chair, “I have been wondering, whether I made a mistake back then.”

“It would be late to blacklist her now,” he says with a mischievous grin.

Miranda laughs, and then shakes her head. “Oh, it’s never too late for that,” she states, but her smirk rescinds her tone. “But this mistake, I fear, is beyond repair.”

“And what did she do to earn the dubious honor of being a mistake _La Priestly_ can’t fix?”

“She…”

Their conversation is interrupted when Miranda’s first assistant steps into the office. “I’m sorry, Miranda. But Mr. Ravitz is here with a guest.”

Nigel stands up and says, “We’ll finish this later.”

Miranda nods nearly unnoticeably, uncertain if she even wishes to entertain the whole idea further.

He leaves and is replaced by Irvine Ravitz, the perpetually insufferable CEO of Elias-Clarke publishing.

“Good afternoon, Irvine. How can I-,” Miranda is visibly thrown off when she recognizes the man that follows him in. It takes her a second, but she manages to school her features to indifference suitable for meetings with Irvine. “How can I help you?”

Irvine looks smug, he’s got Miranda off her game, even if he clearly has no clue why. “Afternoon Miranda. I’m showing the building to our newest board member, Henry Ingesson.”

The man steps to stand next to Irvine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Priestly.” He extends his hand and shakes hers.

He is fair-haired, and his eyes are piercingly blue. All-around he has quite agreeable features and handsome is the word most people would probably use to describe him.

Miranda sticks with boring.

“His mother is stepping down from the board, and he has been chosen to replace her,” Irvine continues his introduction.

He babbles on, and there are few words more spoken between the three of them. During which Miranda comes to a conclusion that Henry is a pleasant surprise, he seems intelligent enough, his manners are far superior to Irvine’s and if Miranda were to pick a man worthy of…

“My Andrea,” he says, and it is all it takes for Miranda to loath him, “has told me so much about you and of Runway, it was great to finally meet you.”

With those as his parting words, the pair of men leave her office and Miranda is left standing in front of her table, clenching her fists, her knuckles slowly turning white and her stomach twisting with vengeance.

_My Andrea._

There are times when Miranda is filled with righteous anger.

Unfortunately, this isn’t that.

This is pure, unadulterated jealousy that is consuming her – and she has no right to it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this in its entirety will be done in couple of days.  
> But also I am horrible with setting deadlines for myself.  
> I'll say it anyway, and then I will be deeply apologetic if it doesn't happen.  
> Honestly, on my knees and everything.
> 
> "This will be all done in couple of days."


	3. Hope

 

“Mom,” Cassidy says while Miranda is making her edits on the Book in her study.

“Yes, Bobbsey?” She murmurs absentmindedly.

“What are you going to wear tomorrow?”

Miranda’s hand stops middle of a correction, and she turns her head and arches an eyebrow at Cassidy who is curled up on the couch seemingly reading a book. “What?”

“I mean, Andy’s going to be there.”

 _There_ , Miranda sighs. At the annual benefit gala Elias-Clarke organizes and almost everyone who works for any of its publications is expected to be present. As are the stockholders and board members. And usually – their significant others.

She tries to appear unfazed, “Whatever do you mean?”

The girl lifts her eyes to meet Miranda’s and grins, “Really, Mom? _Really?_ You’re going to see the woman, you’ve been pining over for weeks now…”

“Or years,” Caroline snorts from the other end of the couch.

“ _Or years_ ,” Cassidy agrees, “and you’re not going to bring your a-game?”

Miranda stares at her children in disbelief. “My what?”

She wonders if she should ask how they are so fine with their mother’s _possible_ interest in another woman, but decides to take their borderline sarcastic acceptance without further questions.

“She’s hopeless,” Caroline sighs. Cassidy joins in her desperation by shaking her head.

“And pining? I certainly have not been _pining,_ ” Miranda denies their innuendo vehemently.

“Yeah, sure. Your picture is probably next to the word in dictionaries.”

Miranda smirks and leaves her edits to join her children on the couch. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, and even if I was… doing that. Andréa is engaged.”

“That just means it isn’t too-too late,” Cassidy says like it should be obvious. “And the dude could be a douchebag.”

“Cassidy, language,” Miranda cautions her.

Cassidy rolls her eyes. “But he could.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve met him, he seemed… suitable.” As a human being, Miranda adds to herself. As someone who can claim Andréa as _theirs –_ not so much.

“What!? You’ve met him and didn’t tell us?” Cassidy nearly jumps of the couch.

Miranda huffs, “I did not think that was something I would need to share with my barely teenage children.”

“Mom. We are fifteen, basically adults.”

“You are fifteen, I’ll give you that, but it’s been only couple years since you still crawled into my bed when you were having nightmares.”

“But we want you to be happy, Mom,” Caroline weighs in.

“I am happy. Listening to you two talk nonsense is always the best part of my day,” Miranda brushes Caroline’s hair behind her ear.

The twins both laugh, and Caroline says, “Well, yeah, obviously. But we want you to have a second-best part too. One that makes us really work on our nonsense.”

“I can hardly wait. But it’s late and you do have school tomorrow.”

“Okay. But you are not off the hook, Missy," Cassidy points a finger at her.

Miranda bursts out laughing, “I don’t think I’ve been called that since _I_ was fifteen. And fine,” Miranda lifts her hands up in surrender. “I’ll have a half day tomorrow, and then you can help me to bring my a-game, as it were.”

“Hell, yeah!”

“Cassidy!” Miranda gasps. " _Language._ "

The twins leave the study and Miranda moves back to her edits, but as the house quiets down, finds her mind wandering to tomorrow and yet again on Andréa.

Certainly, there is no guarantee she will be willing to even look at Miranda, let alone speak to her. Still, one should always have hope.

Her children seem to have that in abundance, but they don’t know how Andréa and Miranda parted ways. They don’t know how much of a rift she may have caused when she shot Andréa down so coldly.

Ice queen – a moniker she truly deserves.

There is still, of course, Andréa’s fiancé, she reminds herself and rubs her neck feeling slightly irritated. He will definitely be there, and Miranda hopes she can handle seeing Andréa’s beaming smile been pointed at someone else.

So much is placed on hope.

And she wonders how much hope she can have, before it runs out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update day!  
> And that can only mean I'm avoiding something that I was suppose to do today.
> 
> Procrastinators unite!


	4. Heartbreak

 

The first person Miranda’s eyes find in the crowd is Andréa and she truly is as breathtakingly beautiful as in her memories.

Andréa’s eyes meet hers and Miranda can see her smile growing a little wider.

Despite wanting to head straight towards her, Miranda has a slew of people she is expected to greet first and that is how she spends her first hour. Occasionally stealing glances at Andréa and whenever her glance is caught, finds her heart skipping a beat.

Her children may have had a point, although pining might be too light of a word.

Finally, Nigel joins Miranda and soon after she sees Andréa approaching them. With Henry.

Miranda touches her throat unconsciously, trying to sooth the jealousy starting to bubble inside again.

Nigel congratulates the pair on their engagement, tells them how happy he is for them. Miranda doesn’t say anything, because she can’t find any happiness in it. All she can see is his hand resting on Andréa’s hip.

There was a time such displays of affection would have been considered vulgar in public setting.

 _The good old days,_ she thinks to herself.

Most of the talking is done by Nigel and Andréa, who are catching up like old friends. She tells them of her years after Runway and when she talks of her engagement, Miranda has to fake her smile like she has never before.

Suddenly Andréa asks Miranda if they could speak alone. They move towards a corridor and Andréa fidgets.

“I need to say something. I need to apologize,” she starts as they are far enough from prying ears.

“Andréa, you have nothing to apologize,” Miranda says tenderly and wants to reach out and still her fidgeting hands.

“Oh, I do. I’m sorry for Paris, Miranda. I am." She bites her lip nervously. "It was… I was confused and overwhelmed and probably said things I didn’t think through,” Andréa says, and Miranda’s heart starts to ache. “But I’m glad you could see past my… _ridiculousness,_ " she adds and tries to smile.

Miranda isn’t sure whether it’s embarrassment or something else that flashes on Andréa’s face.

But her heart aches even harder.

Andréa leaves her and joins her fiancé and Miranda is left standing alone. Someone approaches but stops their advance as if they had understood her need to be left alone.

Hope, what a ridiculous notion.

Miranda can hear her heartbeat in her ears. She needs to leave. She needs to get away.

As she is leaving she walks past Andréa and stops, touching her arm gently and says, “For whatever it’s worth, Andréa. It is the only chance I regret not taking.” Andréa looks at her bewildered and Miranda adds, “And congratulations,” before she removes her hand and leaves the venue.

She walks down the stairs, barely conscious of the cameras flashing around her and gets into the town car waiting her at the end and tells Roy to take her home.

By the time she is in her own bedroom, a single tear has turned into a river as she tries to prevent herself from sobbing out loud. Her legs finally give in and she let’s herself fall on the floor, leaning against the bed.

Even if it has been questioned numerous times throughout the years, evidently, she still has enough heart left for it to be broken.

But getting your heart broken by something that was never even real.

"You really are a fool, Miranda," she whispers to herself.

An utter fool.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might be eviler than originally planned.


	5. Doubt

_“It is the only chance I regret not taking.”_

 

Andy sits on the couch in her living room, holding a cup of coffee in her hands that has gone cold ages ago and stares into the distance. A question she has asked herself probably hundred times that week keeps resurfacing and distracting her from everything else.

_What did she mean?_

Perhaps she should take it at face value, euphemisms do not fit Miranda’s style.

Back in Paris, all those years ago, Andy told Miranda she loved her.

Or more like blurted it out.

Miranda dismissed it as a silly little crush, and Andy knew she couldn’t stay. She was helplessly in love with her and if she had stayed as Miranda’s assistant, it would have crushed her.

Even more than leaving her had.

But did she mean she might have had feelings for Andy four years ago? Why would she be letting her know now?

Andy had decided she would try to make things less awkward between them when it became clear that with Henry’s new position she would be crossing paths with Miranda again. So, she was determined to apologize as soon as the opportunity rose. But Miranda’s reaction surprised her.

For a moment she had looked almost hurt, but Andy isn't certain if it was just what she longed to see.

But could you really regret something if it wasn’t relevant anymore?

Her phone starts ringing, and she groans when she remembers she probably should be at her wedding dress fitting. She answers the phone and tries to convince her mother she is practically there already.

 

“How can you forget your fitting?” Her mother asks shaking her head once Andy arrives. “You’re preparing for the happiest day in your life.”

She obviously isn’t expected to give an actual answer as she is escorted to the room in the back.

“Oh, honey!” Her mother is on the verge of tears when she sees Andy in the dress. “You look so beautiful.”

Andy steps in front of the mirror and stares at the dress. Her dress. The dress she is going to wear on her ‘happiest’ day.

“I can almost imagine the look on Henry’s face when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

And Andy imagines herself walking down the aisle. On her happiest day. But it isn’t Henry’s face she sees.

Her mother’s brow furrows as she looks at Andy, “What is wrong? You don’t like the dress?”

Andy shakes her head. The dress is perfect. Everything else is wrong.

“What did she mean?” Andy mutters to herself.

“Who did?” Her mother asks.

"How did you know you wanted to marry Dad?” Andy asks instead of answering.

“What are you talking about?”

“How did you know?” She repeats her question more insistently and turns to stare at her mother.

She looks at her slightly perplexed, before she answers, “Simple. I knew there was no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

Andy swallows hard and turns her eyes to her reflection again.

“What if Henry isn’t my ‘no one else’?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still got a day left on my deadline.  
> Which I didn't expect to keep in the first place.


	6. Love

 

Perhaps it’s time to get another dog, Miranda thinks to herself when her eyes focus on a picture of her children with their beloved St. Bernard, Patricia, who died over a year ago.

Oh, how she had resisted getting a dog until the very end but having her proved to be far more pleasant than Miranda could have imagined. Even if she has never admitted it to anyone.

But the twins will be leaving the nest in a few years and she will be all alone.

A dog would at least remain by her side. Humans never seem to stay in her life that long.

The doorbell rings and Miranda sighs, but doesn’t move. Her teenage children seem to think it takes too much effort to use their keys.

They have been away most of the week on a trip with their father, but they shouldn’t be back for at least another hour.

The doorbell rings again and Miranda’s brow furrows a little. Nobody except her children ever use it.

Everyone who needs to get inside has a key. Her children, her assistants and her housekeeper and that pretty much covers the people that come to the townhouse.

When the doorbell rings the third time, Miranda gives up and heads to the foyer. Whoever it is, has better have their last will and testament ready.

She has her most furious glare on when she opens the door, but when she sees Andréa standing in front of her, her glare melts away instantly.

“A-Andréa?” Is the only thing she manages to say and even that she basically stutters.

Miranda is so focused on staring her face, her beautiful face, that it takes her a little too long to realize what Andréa is wearing.

She is in a wedding gown. Andréa is standing in front of her and looks absolutely mesmerizing. But in a wedding gown.

“Can I come in?” Andréa asks and Miranda snaps back into reality.

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Andréa steps in and places her handbag on the side table. Once again Miranda notices her hands fidgeting.

Andréa starts pacing in the foyer. Occasionally she stops and looks like she is about to say something and then paces again.

A wary hope flickers inside of Miranda, but she tries to keep it at bay. Hope has rarely been on her side, even when she has clung to it.

In the end, she is the one to break the silence and state the obvious, “Andréa, you’re in a wedding gown.”

“Uh,” the woman responds and looks down. Like she had forgot what she was wearing. “Yeah, I was sort of in…” Andréa’s phone starts ringing, and she lets out a frustrated groan, “Sorry I need to take this,” she says to Miranda before she goes back to her handbag to get her phone.

Andréa looks slightly irritated when she answers the call. “I know. I know. Yes, Mom. I know. Yeah. I told you, I need to do something first, I’ll come back soon.”

She ends the call and leaves her phone on the table and turns back towards Miranda.

Miranda swallows and asks, “Andréa, where… Where should you be?”

“In a fitting.”

“I see.” It’s a thin relief, but a relief nonetheless.

“But I had to leave. Because I had to talk to you.”

“What do you want to talk to me about?”

“What did you mean by regret? Because, I swear to god Miranda, I am losing…” Andréa lets out a sigh and sits down on the staircase with surprising grace despite the body-hugging fit of her gown. “I need to know.”

“Andréa,” Miranda starts, but isn’t quite sure how to answer. She could say she wants to kiss her, because she truly does.

She could tell her she loves her and has for the past four years even if she was so deep in denial it took all those years to realize it.

Or tell her she wants to hold on to her and never let her leave again.

But instead of telling her any of it, she asks tenderly, “Are you certain you want to know? Absolutely certain, Andréa? Because if I say it out loud, I’m not sure I can handle a similar response I gave to you in Paris nearly as gracefully.”

“I need to hear it,” Andréa says determined.

Miranda takes a step towards her and extends her hand and when Andréa holds on to it, pulls her up.

They stand barely a foot apart, and Miranda is still holding Andréa’s hand. Her left hand, she realizes when she feels the engagement ring on Andréa’s finger.

“In every imaginable aspect,” Miranda murmurs as she looks at the ring, “he would be a better choice.”

“Miranda,” is the soft response she is given.

She lets go of Andréa's hand and cups her face gently. Miranda looks straight into her eyes and sees it again.

The hope she had once so recklessly obliterated.

And says the words she has wanted to say for so long. The words she should have said from the beginning.

“I love you, Andréa.”

The woman standing in front of her swallows hard and tears pool in her eyes. “I love you too, you idiot.”

Miranda grins, “That I can handle.” She moves closer but freezes when the front door swings open.

She and Andréa move slightly apart, and Miranda clears her throat and turns to look at her children, “Did you two have a good trip?”

Her children stare at her and then stare at Andréa. “I think we’ve been left out of the loop, Caro.”

Caroline hums in agreement, “And based on the getup, we’ve been out of it for a good while.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I asked myself: Why make them kiss when I can interrupt the moment with buffoonery. 
> 
> I regret nothing.


	7. Epilogue

  
Back when Andréa appeared on her doorstep in her white gown two and a half years ago, Miranda could have never imagined how much better it would make her life. But here she is, looking at her children and Andréa gathered around the kitchen island and her heart is constantly filled with happiness she never thought she would be allowed to experience.

It hasn’t necessarily been that easy of a journey. It took a significant amount of time for Andréa’s family and friends to comprehend how she could choose someone who had not left them with, let’s say, the most favorable impression during the time she had worked for her.

Andréa’s mother still has difficult time accepting Miranda, but they’ve achieved a modicum of peace due to their shared understanding that both would be willing to do whatever it takes to make Andréa happy.

Albeit that doesn’t discourage her from mentioning Henry whenever the opportunity rises and somehow those opportunities keep occuring. Henry, on the other hand…

Well, he and Miranda had a slight altercation quite soon after Andréa left him and afterwards it was safe to say that everyone at Runway knew of Andréa again.

Nothing else really changed, Miranda stayed on as the Editor-in-Chief and Henry remained on the board and these days you could almost describe their relationship amicable. Although only when Andréa isn’t in the immediate vicinity.

When she is, Miranda has hard time putting her best foot forward and that makes her hate him.

Simply, because he always seems to be winning when Miranda’s jealousy makes her feel insecure.

Even if it’s her hand Andréa holds. Her cheek she kisses. Her ear she whispers how much she loves her.

Her who she shares her precious Sunday mornings with.

Like this particular one. Miranda stands sipping her coffee while she observes the three people she cares most about in the world continue their idle chatter over their breakfasts.

Until the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

“So, when are you going to ask Mom to marry you?” Caroline blurts out and Miranda nearly chokes on her coffee.

Andréa looks slightly surprised and asks, “What?”

“You’ve lived with us for like two years now. Cass and I think it’s about time.”

“We’ll be moving out soon and we need to make sure you can’t just walk out when,” Cassidy says and points her spoon at Miranda, “she’s acting stupid.”

Caroline nods. “A fail-safe, so to speak.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Miranda tries to intervene, but it falls on deaf ears.

It’s not like they fight that often or that badly.

And yes, she has considered marriage. After all, the unspoken thought she had in the back of her mind, when she had found out Andrea was going to marry someone, was that it should be her.

But she has been married and then divorced three times. Fourth time, even if it would be the one to stick, seems rather ridiculous.

Though it was once her hope she had been ridiculous in the first place and Andrea is, for a lack of a better word, her soulmate. That much is certain.

“And it has been established long ago that Mom is totally hopeless with these things. She is never going to propose to you, so it will have to be you,” Cassidy ends her case.

“Cassidy,” Miranda sighs, but when she looks up notices Andréa staring at her thoughtfully and she isn’t sure how they have never approached the subject before.

Perhaps it's because of how they got together.

“But we need to be careful choosing the season for the wedding,” Caroline states.

Cassidy snorts. “Definitely not winter. The Ice Queen jokes basically write themselves.”

“Yeah. And I don’t think it can be summer either. I mean, if it happens to be a heatwave it’s going to be ‘The Devil walks down the aisle in hellish heat’, or something.” Caroline adds.

Miranda groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her precious Sunday morning is getting absurd.

But she can’t really disagree – she certainly has a unique burden she brings to their union.

“Fall?” Andréa suddenly asks and Miranda’s head snaps back up and her gaze focuses on Andrea.

“Fall...” Caroline says like she’s tasting the word.

“Fall.” Cassidy’s tone is confirming, and Miranda feels like it’s somehow now been settled.

Just missing a crucial first step.

The twins seem content that they have made their point and move on to debate about something else.

Miranda and Andréa are still looking at each other and a small smile curls up the other woman’s lips. Like she is challenging her.

And Miranda has never been one to refuse a direct challenge.

She moves to stand next to Andréa, who turns in her chair to face Miranda.

“Oh, god!” She hears Cassidy exclaim. “Mom’s got that mushy thing going on her face. They are about to get all sappy again.”

“Yeah. That’s my cue.” Caroline jumps off the chair. “I definitely can’t handle that much syrup this early. Come on, Cass.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Cassidy follows her sister, but stops and gives Miranda and Andréa a pointed look, “You two better remember  _we all_  use this kitchen.”

Andréa bursts out laughing and Miranda sighs, “They are impossible.”

“I think they are brilliant. And they do have a point,” Andréa says pulling her closer and leaves her hands to rest on Miranda’s hips.

“Oh?” She arches her eyebrow and brushes Andréa’s hair behind her ear.

“I think so. I think it would take very little to convince me of just how much I would enjoy spending the rest of my life as Mrs. Priestly.”

“Is that so?” She smirks looking at the woman sitting in front of her.

“Uh-huh.”

“I see. Well,” she says and runs her hand up Andréa’s arm, “I think I can manage that.”

“Yeah?” Andréa bites her lip, and Miranda’s hand moves to lift her chin.

“Indeed.” She leans closer and gives her a soft, lingering kiss.

 

“Will you marry me, Andréa?”

 

 

*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. Thank you for reading this thing that I had no idea I was going to write.
> 
> A heartfelt thanks to the comments, you've made this far, far too much fun. Like I don't-wanna-go kind of fun.
> 
> I would also like to extend thanks to the muscle relaxants that have kept me mobile and my mind sufficiently foggy, and to the 90's love songs I've been listening while writing.  
> Especially "Crush" by Jennifer Paige and "Lovefool" by the Cardigans that I have listened at least 80 times during this week and that probably is a way underestimated number. If you squint really hard, I suppose their influence can be seen somewhere. 
> 
> Now, I will go back to the 80's section of my music library and to my fortress (cottage) of solitude (isolation) to finish the last three chapters for my actual WIP. Like I was supposed to.


End file.
